


The Hawk Overhead

by CaptainSchmoe



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Boners, Detective Work, Exercising, Facial Trauma, Guns, I know you think you’ve read enough fic to think you know where this is going, Internalized Homophobia, Kidnapping, Multi, Murder, Serial Killer!Jack, Serial Killing, THIS DOES NOT LEAD TO SEX, bludgeoning, detective!mark, funny aneurysm moment, gay!Jack, going to the gym, if you don’t know what that means be grateful TV Tropes hasn’t ruined your life yet, made-up place names because I don’t feel like researching real geography, repressed homosexuality, well one boner, your previous experience with fic is lying to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 00:18:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15960656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSchmoe/pseuds/CaptainSchmoe
Summary: Teamiplier is on the case about four suspiciously similar deaths occurring over a short time span.A friendo (Hishex) wanted me to write detective!Mark and serial killer!Jack, so I tried.*shrug*This plays out more like a TV show than real life.





	The Hawk Overhead

**Author's Note:**

> It's probably obvious, but "the Hawk" is Jack.

The “Hawk River Killer”, they started calling him. Or her. Or them. They didn’t actually know for sure yet. But historically, nearly all of these sick people were lone men. So while Teamiplier kept their minds open to alternate possibilities, they’d been referring to “Hawk” as being a lone man.

He’d just claimed his fourth victim, a Robin Torkar. He was found on the banks of the North Hawk River, face-down, with his face bludgeoned in, just like the others before him. Actually, just like Hanson before him, at least. The other two, Morrison and Kjellberg, were found at the South Hawk.

 _Let’s see... First South, then North, then South, then North..._ Coincidence? Or was their killer deliberately going back and forth between them?

Amy was sitting on the desk, studying to profiles of the four victims. “So they were all last seen where?”

Mark explained: “Morrison’s wife told us he had gone to the grocery store and never came home, Hanson was last seen on security footage getting gas at the local Round Trip, Kjellberg went missing between leaving his home and clocking into work, and Torkar we have yet to figure out.”

“Weapons?” Tyler asked.

“All of their wounds suggest their skulls were smashed in with a heavy object. Best guess would be that the killer picked up any of the millions of rocks on the banks.”

“‘Best guess’?”

“What? Hawk could’ve picked up a rock, used it, tossed the used rock back into the river, poof! No more weapon.”

“Yeah,” Amy said, “but that implies the victims just lay there and took it.”

“Well, maybe he threatened them.”

The answer seemed to satisfy Tyler. Seemed to.

“The Hawk does seem to like to go for the good-looking ones, though,” Amy said.

They were, admittedly, all pretty attractive.

“Better hope he doesn’t go for you next,” she joked.

Mark forced a nervous laugh.

“...I’m sorry.” Her face fell. “That was an awful joke.”

“You’re fine,” he reassured her, rubbing her forearm. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

* * *

 

Mark’s head was still swimming with work, even as he tried to exercise it out of him.

Well, he only did get here a few minutes ago. Maybe he just had to keep focusing on his kettlebell reps, and the calm would come.

Only one other person was in here, a man Mark had never seen before, not in this gym, at least. Something about this guy stuck out to Mark. Maybe it was the fact that he looked like he’d fit in nicely with the first four victims. Fluffy brown hair. Beard, short and neatly trimmed. A sort of overall softness and gentleness to his face and the way he carried his body - even as he was pressing a medicine ball.

Then again, Mark fit this description as well, didn’t he?

...Maybe he shouldn’t be here.

The man caught Mark staring in his direction, to which Mark gave a quick smile and nod of acknowledgement before turning his gaze away, back to his kettlebell. His heart was racing in a growing anxiety.

Suddenly, Mark caught sight of the man staring back at him. Immediately, the man turned his body away, continuing to press the medicine ball with his reflection in the mirror-covered wall. Alarm bells started ringing in Mark’s head. Now this guy seemed suspicious to his gut. The intrusive thought that Mark could die tonight kept crossing his mind, over and over and over again.

He was ashamed to admit he caught a glimpse of a boner in the other man’s pants, startling him enough to keep his eyes pointed in that direction for about one second longer than was comfortable.

Fortunately, the man didn’t seem to notice, despite the fact that Mark was visible in the mirrors, as well.

...Ew.

Mark halfheartedly finished his workout in as much peace as he figured he would get knowing some other dude was getting a boner from him; he’d moved to another part of the gym, out of the man’s sight, after about ten minutes to make it look like a more natural, non-threatened, non-threatening transition. He supposed it could have been even more uncomfortable for the other man as it was for him. Always kept things like that in perspective.

Mark toweled the sweat off his exposed skin, tossing it into the linen basket and grabbing his bag. Pushing open the door, the night air chilled his bones, covering him in goosebumps and making his teeth clatter. Either he underestimated the cooling power of sweat, or he didn’t correctly remember the forecast, or maybe the weatherman was just plain wrong.

He’d parked his car directly under the glow of a streetlamp, as it made him feel safer, more secure. No Hawks that could lurk around next to it unseen.

As soon as he pressed the fob to unlock the doors, though, a gun cocked behind him.

He froze. Heart pounding. Every vessel in his head thump-thump-thumping. Instinctively, he raised his hands.

“Drop the bag.”

Mark did as he was told, hands still in the air as much as possible. He was gonna die. _He was gonna die! **He was gonna die!!!**_

_No, no, Mark, think rationally. Do what this guy says for now, wait for your opening._

“Get in the car. You’re driving.”

Again, Mark did as he was told, sliding into the driver’s seat, hands gripping at 10 and 2 on the wheel, knuckles white. The man clambered into the passenger seat next to him. He pressed the barrel into Mark’s temple, causing him to wince.

“Follow my directions.”

 

* * *

 

The fucking Hawk.

With no window of opportunity to do anything to stop him - unless he wanted a bullet to the brain - Mark kept driving. Away, on a gravel road along the South Hawk miles from civilization. He’d been forced to drop his bag. He had literally nothing but his bare hands to fight the guy.

If he did shoot him, at least there’d be evidence.

“Stop here,” the Hawk ordered.

Mark obeyed, pulling over his vehicle.

“Turn everything off.”

A click of the ignition. A flick of the headlights. Stillness. Silence. Terror.

The Hawk opened his door and climbed out, Mark presuming he still had the gun pointed to his temple. He walked around the front of the car, and commanded, “Get out.”

Mark opened the door.

“Get on the ground.”

Mark obeyed.

“I fucking hate you, you know?”

 _Huh?_ “Have we met?”

“Before the gym? Nah.” The Hawk walked towards the riverbank mid-sentence, cocking his gun to make sure Mark knew he still had no window to make his move. “But it’s just this... gut feeling inside me, you know? You ever just _know_ you hate someone, beyond any possibility of you ever changing your mind?”

“Didn’t you have a huge boner back there, though?”

“Shut the fuck up!” He kicked Mark in the side of the head, and he toppled over. His temple throbbed, his ear rang.

“I just... want to know... Do you hate that you found me attractive?”

Another kick. This time directly to the mouth. A few teeth cracked, and he spat them out. Blood trickled over his lips.

“I said shut the fuck up!” The Hawk threw something to the ground. Not at Mark’s face, for whatever reason.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Mark tried to go into de-escalating mode. “It’s not fair to you.”

“No shit it’s not fair. I’m fucked if I do and fucked if I don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean either I kill you now, or I live with pain of knowing you’re still roaming the streets, that you may cross my path again and bring these disgusting feelings back up.”

The thought of why this guy hadn’t thought to kill himself instead intruded. And Mark hated himself for its intrusion. That wasn’t right. None of this was right.

He tried to reassure him, “It’s not disgusting to feel that way.”

“What do you know? You’re probably with a girl right now, aren’t you?”

Again, Mark froze. Should he tell the truth? Should he lie? The gears in his head were spinning so fast they were popping off, leaving him stuck.

The Hawk kicked him under the ribs, pushing him onto his back. “Are you!?”

“Y-yes,” he stammered without thinking.

“Figured as much.”

The last thing on Mark’s mind, before the rock came down, was _“Better hope he doesn’t go for you next”_.

 

* * *

 

“Amy?”

Tyler’s voice cracked. He peered into her office, and she could see his hands shaking, his cheeks shining wet under the light overhead. In his hand was a folder, with documents poking out the sides.

“What?” she asked, dread ballooning in her soul.

Tyler padded over to her desk, hesitant to lay the folder on it. But he did, and he choked out, “The Hawk got another one.”

Opening the folder with a trembling hand, Amy was greeted with the face that left her doubling over on her desk, sobbing.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve got one (1) more idea for a oneshot.


End file.
